The Answer, by Dr. Sheridan
I thank you for your comedies.I'll stay and read 'em now at home a-days,Because Parcus wrote but sorrilyThy notes, I'll read Lambinus thoroughly;And then I shall be stoutly set a-gogTo challenge every Irish Pedagogue.I like your nice epistle critical,Which does in threefold rhymes so witty fall;Upon the comic dram' and tragedyYour notion’s right, but verses maggotty;'Tis but an hour since I heard a man swear it,The Devil himself could hardly answer it.As for your friend the sage Euripides,I believe you give him now the slip o' days;But mum for that--pray come a SaturdayAnd dine with me, you can't a better day:I'll give you nothing but a mutton chop,Some nappy mellow'd ale with rotten hop,A pint of wine as good as Falern',Which we poor masters, God knows, all earn;We'll have a friend or two, sir, at table,Right honest men, for few're comeatable;Then when our liquor makes us talkative,We'll to the fields, and take a walk at eve.Because I'm troubled much with laziness,These rhymes I've chosen for their easiness.
Dear Dean, since in cruxes and puns you and I deal,Pray why is a woman a sieve and a riddle?'Tis a thought that came into my noddle this morning,In bed as I lay, sir, a-tossing and turning.You'll find if you read but a few of your histories,All women, as Eve, all women are mysteries.To find out this riddle I know you'll be eager,And make every one of the sex a Belphegor.But that will not do, for I mean to commend them;I swear without jest I an honour intend them.In a sieve, sir, their ancient extraction I quite tell,In a riddle I give you their power and their title.This I told you before; do you know what I mean, sir?"Not I, by my troth, sir."--Then read it again, sir.The reason I send you these lines of rhymes double,Is purely through pity, to save you the troubleOf thinking two hours for a rhyme as you did last,When your Pegasus canter'd in triple, and rid fast.As for my little nag, which I keep at Parnassus,With Phoebus's leave, to run with his asses,He goes slow and sure, and he never is jaded,While your fiery steed is whipp'd, spurr'd, bastinaded.
Words in this poem 18
- thank n.
- A expression of gratitude; an acknowledgment expressive of a sense of favor or kindness received; obligation, claim, or desert, or gratitude; -- now generally used in the plural. [AS. Þanc, Þonc, thanks, favor, thought; akin to OS. thank favor, pleasure, thanks, D. & G. dank thanks, Icel. Þ\'94kk, Dan. tak, Sw. tack, Goth. Þagks thanks; -]
- wrote v. i.
- To root with the snout. See 1st Root. [OE. wroten. See 1st Root.]
- sorrily adv.
- In a sorry manner; poorly.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- stoutly adv.
- In a stout manner; lustily; boldly; obstinately; as, he stoutly defended himself.
- witty a.
- Possessed of wit; knowing; wise; skillful; judicious; clever; cunning. [AS. witig, wittig. See Wit, n.]
- saturday n.
- The seventh or last day of the week; the day following Friday and preceding Sunday. [OE. Saterday, AS. Sæterdæg, Sæterndæg, Sæternesdæg, literally, Saturn's day, fr. L. Saturnus Saturn + AS. dæg day; cf. L. dies Saturni.]
- dine v. i.
- To eat the principal regular meal of the day; to take dinner. [F. dîner, OF. disner, LL. disnare, contr. fr. an assumed disjunare; dis- + an assumed junare (OF. juner) to fast, for L. jejunare, fr. jejunus fasting. See Jeju]
- mutton n.
- A sheep. Chapman. [OE. motoun, OF. moton, molton, a sheep, wether, F. mouton, LL. multo, by transposition of l fr. L. mutilus mutilated. See Mutilate.]
- laziness n.
- The state or quality of being lazy.
- easiness n.
- The state or condition of being easy; freedom from distress; rest.
- noddle n.
- The head; -- used jocosely or contemptuously. [OE. nodil, nodle; perh. fr. nod, because the head is the nodding part of the body, or perh. akin to E. knot; cf. Prov. E. nod the nape of the neck.]
- jest n.
- A deed; an action; a gest. [OE. jeste, geste, deed, action, story, tale, OF. geste, LL. gesta, orig., exploits, neut. pl. from L. gestus, p. p. of gerere to bear, carry, accomplish, perfor]
- honour n.
- Esteem due or paid to worth; high estimation; respect; consideration; reverence; veneration; manifestation of respect or reverence. [OE. honor, honour, onour, onur, OF. honor, onor, honur, onur, honour, onour, F. honneur, fr. L. honor, honos.]
- intend v. t.
- To stretch' to extend; to distend. [OE. entenden to be attentive, F. entendre, fr. L. intendre, intentum, and intensum, to intend, attend, stretch out, extend; pref. in- in + tendere to stretch, s]
- troth n.
- Belief; faith; fidelity. [A variant of truth. See Truth.]
- parnassus n.
- A mountain in Greece, sacred to Apollo and the Muses, and famous for a temple of Apollo and for the Castalian spring. Grass of Parnassus. (Bot.) See under Grass, and Parnassia.
- steed n.
- A horse, especially a spirited horse for state of war; -- used chiefly in poetry or stately prose. [OE. stede, AS. steda a stud-horse, war horse, fr. stod a stud of breeding steeds; akin to G. stute a mare, Icel. stedda, sto, a stud. *163. See Stud of horses.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Answer, by Dr. Sheridan is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D., Volume 2, Project Gutenberg ebook #13621; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Jonathan Swift, The Answer, by Dr. Sheridan, in Cadenus and Vanessa, and Other Poems (1710–1745), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #13621, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/swift-poems/the-answer-by-dr-sheridan.html, id L09396.
Form and metre
The Answer, by Dr. Sheridan is 48 lines in 2 stanzas. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 75%). 88% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.7 syllables. 23 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 10% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic pentameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 AA----BB--CC-ADDEE--FFGGHH comediesA · daysA · sorrily · thoroughly · gog · pedagogue · criticalB · fallB · tragedy · maggotty · itC · itC · euripides · daysA · saturdayD · dayD · chopE · hopE · falern · earn · tableF · comeatableF · talkativeG · eveG · lazinessH · easinessH
- 2 AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHIIJJKK dealA · riddleA · morningB · turningB · historiesC · mysteriesC · eagerD · belphegorD · themE · themE · tellF · titleF · sirG · sirG · doubleH · troubleH · lastI · fastI · parnassusJ · assesJ · jadedK · bastinadedK
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I thank you for your comedies. | 8 | ·····/˘˘ |
| I'll stay and read 'em now at home a-days, | 10 | ·········· |
| Because Parcus wrote but sorrily | 9 | ······/˘˘ |
| Thy notes, I'll read Lambinus thoroughly; | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| And then I shall be stoutly set a-gog | 10 | ·····/˘··· |
| To challenge every Irish Pedagogue. | 10 | ·/˘/˘/˘/˘˘ |
| I like your nice epistle critical, | 9 | ····˘/˘/˘ |
| Which does in threefold rhymes so witty fall; | 10 | ···/···/˘· |
| Upon the comic dram' and tragedy | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| Your notion’s right, but verses maggotty; | 10 | ·/˘··/˘··· |
| 'Tis but an hour since I heard a man swear it, | 11 | ···/······· |
| The Devil himself could hardly answer it. | 10 | ·/˘/·/˘/˘· |
| As for your friend the sage Euripides, | 9 | ········· |
| I believe you give him now the slip o' days; | 11 | ·˘/········ |
| But mum for that--pray come a Saturday | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| And dine with me, you can't a better day: | 10 | ·······/˘· |
| I'll give you nothing but a mutton chop, | 10 | ···/˘··/˘· |
| Some nappy mellow'd ale with rotten hop, | 10 | ·/˘/˘··/˘· |
| A pint of wine as good as Falern', | 9 | ········· |
| Which we poor masters, God knows, all earn; | 9 | ···/˘···· |
| We'll have a friend or two, sir, at table, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Right honest men, for few're comeatable; | 10 | ·/˘······· |
| Then when our liquor makes us talkative, | 9 | ··//˘··/˘ |
| We'll to the fields, and take a walk at eve. | 10 | ·········· |
| Because I'm troubled much with laziness, | 9 | ···/˘··/˘ |
| These rhymes I've chosen for their easiness. | 10 | ···/˘··/˘˘ |
| Dear Dean, since in cruxes and puns you and I deal, | 12 | ····/˘······ |
| Pray why is a woman a sieve and a riddle? | 12 | ····/˘····/˘ |
| 'Tis a thought that came into my noddle this morning, | 13 | ········/˘·/˘ |
| In bed as I lay, sir, a-tossing and turning. | 12 | ·······/˘·/˘ |
| You'll find if you read but a few of your histories, | 12 | ··········/˘ |
| All women, as Eve, all women are mysteries. | 11 | ·/˘···/˘·/˘ |
| To find out this riddle I know you'll be eager, | 12 | ····/˘····/˘ |
| And make every one of the sex a Belphegor. | 12 | ··/˘········ |
| But that will not do, for I mean to commend them; | 12 | ·········˘/· |
| I swear without jest I an honour intend them. | 12 | ·······/˘˘/· |
| In a sieve, sir, their ancient extraction I quite tell, | 13 | ·····/˘˘/˘··· |
| In a riddle I give you their power and their title. | 13 | ··/˘····/··/˘ |
| This I told you before; do you know what I mean, sir? | 13 | ············· |
| "Not I, by my troth, sir."--Then read it again, sir. | 12 | ·········˘/· |
| The reason I send you these lines of rhymes double, | 12 | ·/˘·······/˘ |
| Is purely through pity, to save you the trouble | 12 | ·/˘·/˘····/˘ |
| Of thinking two hours for a rhyme as you did last, | 12 | ·/˘·/······· |
| When your Pegasus canter'd in triple, and rid fast. | 12 | ··/˘···/˘··· |
| As for my little nag, which I keep at Parnassus, | 13 | ···/˘······/˘ |
| With Phoebus's leave, to run with his asses, | 10 | ·/˘·····/˘ |
| He goes slow and sure, and he never is jaded, | 11 | ·······/·/˘ |
| While your fiery steed is whipp'd, spurr'd, bastinaded. | 12 | ··/˘········ |
Notes from the edition 1
The notes to the Poems of Jonathan Swift, Volume II (Project Gutenberg #13621).
- Stanza 1, line 14 N.B.--You told me you forgot your Greek.
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.